Saturday Night
by xxxEmma3xxx
Summary: A little scene that takes place after Red Dragon. Will runs into (is tracked down by?) a certain cannibalistic someone... R/R!


Disclaimer:  *checks birth certificate…*  Nope, I'm just Emma, they don't belong to me.

I'm not really sure when this takes place.  Sometime after Red Dragon.  Will Graham is a drunken wreck, as usual, and Lecter's gotten free.  

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            There was a double Scotch on the bar before he even shrugged out of his coat.  Already drunk from the pub next door, Will Graham muttered a thank-you to the bartender and drank it down in seconds.  Another was put in front of him.

            When he'd finished his third drink without ever speaking to the bartender, the customer next to him turned to him slowly, sounding amused.  "So you're a regular here?"

            The bartender laughed.  "Regular?  Will's a fixture."

            Will turned to glare at the stranger.  "Look, I've had a rough time.  There's a lot you don't know."  The bartender gave him another drink.  By now he was making a face as he downed it.

            The man's voice was eerily familiar to Graham, but in his drunken state, he couldn't come close to placing it.  "I know it's inexcusably rude to make comments like this, Will, but that's disgusting.  You are disgusting."

            This time, Graham whirled so fast he almost fell out of his stool.  A strong arm shot out to steady him, and Graham shuddered involuntarily.  "You've had too many, again, Will."  He turned to the bartender.  "I'll be taking him home now."

            Graham followed him meekly, propelled by a vicelike grip on his shoulders.  He allowed himself to be brought outside into the cold night air, but finally thought to face his companion.  "Who are you?"  He struggled to make something out in the darkness.

            Then a car drove by, and a brief flash of headlights gave Will a glimpse of a calm smile and a pair of ice-blue eyes that stared at him with satisfaction and malice.  "Hello, Will.  Long time no see."

            Graham's knees gave way and he went unconscious.

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            He awoke with a pounding headache.  Par for the course – it was Sunday morning.

            Oh, wait.  He couldn't move.  Hmmm.  He was tied down.

            Graham was just starting to struggle when a voice spoke up calmly from behind him.  "Don't bother, Will – you'll only rub yourself raw.  The ropes are good."

            That, of course, didn't stop Graham from fighting his bonds for a few moments.  He was so tired and dizzy that it took him awhile to realize that he wasn't gagged.  "Hey…Doctor Lecter, what's going on?"  His voice was woozy; he wasn't quite aware of everything just yet.

            "Isn't it obvious, Will?  I've tied you up, to prevent another shootout.  That scene in my office was abominably messy; it belonged in an old Western film and not in real life."  The click of Lecter's heels told Will that he was coming around the chair to face him.  He closed his eyes.

            The doctor tsked but didn't speak.  Finally, Graham marshaled a superhuman effort and spoke.  "Doctor, please.  What do you want from me?"

            "Open your eyes, Will."  His voice was paternal and indulgent, which only made it more frightening.  Graham forced himself to look.

            Lecter was crouched down in front of him, leaning in so that their faces were mere inches away.  If it weren't for the ropes, Graham would have leaped a foot in the air.  As it was, he snapped his head backwards to make a loud crack against the wooden chair.  Lecter just smiled.  "Ouch."

            The doctor backed away and stood against the window.  Graham tried to stare at him, but the bright sunlight made him blink after only a few seconds.  "What are you doing?"  His voice was shaking like a child's.

            Apparently ignoring that last comment, Lecter mused aloud, "Every criminal's wet dream, isn't it?  For an incarcerated person to have, totally at his mercy, the one responsible for his imprisonment…"

            "You're not a criminal.  You're a nut."  Graham could just make out Lecter's arched eyebrow, and suddenly understood the value of surprising Lecter.  Winning the doctor's respect, or at least amusing him, was a key factor in staying alive.  He found himself remembering all the times Lecter had ever praised him, hoping he could discover some method of persuading his former friend not to kill him.

            "That's true, I suppose.  It _is good to be free again."  Lecter sighed.  "Now I suppose it's time I told you why I brought you here.  As you've already suspected, killing and eating you is certainly an option.  If that should be in the cards, so to speak, I have already chosen a dish I think would be most appropriate."  His smile was brief and very white.  "Have you ever had monkey's brains, Will?  It's fascinating, really, how it's served.  A hole in the table, so that the monkey can be underneath while the head is prepared for the guests…the monkey is still alive when they cut into its skull with the saw…"_

            Graham was shaking uncontrollably.  "Doctor, please stop talking," he grated.  "I'm more afraid of _you_ than of…of what you're going to do, if that makes sense."

            In a flash Lecter was right beside him.  "Ahhh," he murmured, "Exactly what I wanted to hear.  That, of course, is another option.  If you'll allow me to _pick_ your brains for a few hours, I might not be so keen to _eat them."_

            Graham swallowed.  "You want to ask me questions?"

            Lecter spread his hands innocently.  "I'm a psychiatrist.  People have told me I should analyze myself, but I don't find that very appealing.  I would, however, be interested in doing some… _research on you.  I'd like to find out what makes you tick."_

            "What do you want to know?"

            Annoyed, Lecter bent down and put his face an inch from his prisoner's.  "First I want you to open you eyes."

            _Humor him.  Humor him humor him humor him.  Graham did as he was told._

            "Excellent.  Now, Will, let's start with _fear.  You reek of it."  He paused.  "Are you very afraid of me, Will?"_

            He took a second to answer.  "Yes.  Yes, I am.  But you said I'm not a coward."

            Lecter's lips quirked into a brief smile.  "That I did.  But then, when I said that, you had just done something remarkably brave."

            "I'd come to see you," Graham argued.  "when you were in a cage.  That hardly qualifies as bravery."

            Without warning, Lecter reached out and backhanded him sharply.  "Don't be an idiot," he said softly and without anger.  "You know you're not afraid to see _me.  You're afraid of me because I remind you of something, I make you think of things…"_

            "You make me think of killers and freaks.  And how I can think just like them."  Graham could feel the heat rise on his face where the doctor had struck him.

            "Why does that bother you?  Do you think you'll turn into a killer yourself, Will?"

            This time his answer was quick.  "No."

            "Ahh.  Explain."

            Certain that the doctor already had everything figured out, and angry at being forced to share such humiliating secrets, Graham's voice vibrated unsteadily.  "When someone says _how could he do that about a murderer…I'd never say that, because I can understand exactly how and why.  I could be like that.  I'm not, but it gives me a…a connection with these people that I'd rather not have."_

            Lecter nodded.

            "Doctor, please tell me if you're going to kill me."  Graham's voice was high and tight.  "I don't mind that much, really I don't, but I have to know."

            Leaning close to Graham's ear as if telling a secret, Lecter held his breath for a second and then whispered, "No."  He stepped back and smiled at his prisoner from a distance.  "I told you I was studying fear, Will.  Uncertainty is a part of fear.  Where would be the fun if I told you what I was going to do?"

            Graham cocked his head and shot the doctor a nasty look.  "Oh, yeah?  Well where's the fun in cleaning piss off your carpet?  I'm going to wet myself in a minute, Doctor – I'm not kidding.  This is every cop's worst nightmare."

            "No, it isn't," Lecter argued happily, glad to see some emotion other than fear coloring Graham's words.  "Their worst nightmare is the part where I kill them.  The talking part is only bothersome to _you, Will.  Which is, of course, the reason I like you in the first place."_

            Graham waited a moment.  "Since when have you become a fan of violence, Doctor?" he asked calmly, after a nice long pause.

            As he'd hoped, Lecter froze.  "What?" he asked softly.  _He's just buying time, Graham thought.  Proud to have rendered the doctor speechless, even for a moment, he continued._

            "You hit me a minute ago.  What's changed?  I don't recall your ever having favored violence before."

            "Except the time I stabbed you in the belly.  Still got the scar, Will?"

            Graham smiled coldly.  "You can't distract me."

            Lecter was so pleased that he had to cross the room and close the closet door – _anything­ _to keep Graham from seeing the grin on his face.  When he was sure he had himself under control again, he came back.  "You're right.  I never was one for unnecessary brutality.  You always noticed that, though, didn't you?"

            He left off the _Did__ you notice that when you were profiling me? But Graham heard it anyway.  "Is this going to be another how-did-you-catch-me conversation?" he demanded, arching his eyebrows cockily.  "I'm too drunk for that right now, Doctor, so you won't get anything good out of me.  Probably a bunch of emotional hogwash that won't even make any sense."_

            With an indulgent smile, Lecter told him, "Don't flatter yourself, Will - you're not drunk.  You're always this bad of a conversationalist."  He made a sweeping gesture, indicating the room at large.  "You've been here for many hours, now – I had you unconscious until most of the booze wore off.  You do drink like a fish, don't you?"

            "I do.  It helps me hide from my problems.  But it isn't always effective…case in point…" although the ropes prevented him from gesturing like his captor, his eyes moved around the room and then came to rest on Lecter accusingly.

            Lecter laughed.  "I've truly missed you, Will."

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The End.

Sort of.  Obviously this isn't really an ending, but this is as far as I've got.  Do you think the story is worth continuing?  And do you have any ideas for a title?  It's just a random little piece that popped into my brain after the movie, so I thought I might as well post it.  Review for me, please??  Thanks for reading.


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